


Just a Job

by elle_nic



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mutual Pining, Open Ending, but also moral!eve, dark!eve, her True Form, villanelle in another poofy pink dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 22:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18583492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_nic/pseuds/elle_nic
Summary: Finding things was something Eve had always been good at; her trademark skill. She had never regretted that skill of hers. Until Villanelle.





	Just a Job

Finding things was something Eve had always been good at; her trademark skill. She always found her mother’s reading glasses when she lost them, always found bits of spare change for her lunch after she moved to America with her father, always found Wally before any of her friends. And she was always so proud to solve these little mysteries. Joyed by her ability to connect dots and come to conclusions that were almost always right. She had never regretted that skill of hers.

Until Villanelle.

Villanelle had that power over her; the power to make her doubt herself, to take away her pride in her skill and make her wish she was just double jointed instead, like Sally McPherson from middle school. Villanelle made Eve wish she was bad at finding things, because as irony would have it, Villanelle was the needle in Eve’s proverbial haystack. And that meant they could never just _be_.

Eve dashed away the thoughts, too busy trying to navigate the winding roads of the Spanish village she was in, the one she knew Villanelle would go to (Eve had a hunch Carolyn knew too, though, and had known longer than her). Cobbled roads snaked through the weather-stained terracotta buildings, all leading her to her prize. A prize she could never keep. A quick turn left, follow the potted plants, through that courtyard, in that building, up to the fourth floor and the last room on the right. She took a deep breath, the wooden door before her was the last barrier. It was a bittersweet realisation. She pushed open the door, cringing as it creaked, and stepped into the furnished bedroom. It wasn’t empty, Eve knew, but she had arrived at the haystack, so her needle could not be far.

The bed was large, but the covers were simple. Not Villanelle’s taste. The rug was nice but looked dusty even from the doorway, and the paint was peeling off the walls in some places. The window was open, a gentle, Spanish breeze kissing Eve’s face and dancing in the curtains. The door shut behind her, but she did not turn. She walked to the bed, laid her hand on the comforter and tried not to think too hard. She had been thinking for too long.

“You found me,” the accented voice murmured from behind her. Eve smiled, but it felt like winter.

“Doesn’t count,” she mumbled, “if you always let me find you.”

The whisper of fabric moved towards her, startling her into turning and looking at her best friend’s murderer, the reason she has a job (the reason she lost her first one), the reason she doesn’t find love in the scratch of her husband’s moustache when she kisses him. And she hates herself for it, but Eve has never seen someone so beautiful. She’s ridiculously dressed in another poofy pink monstrosity that makes her look like a Disney princess’ fever dream, but no one would look as good as her in that dress. Eve wonders if Villanelle watched Disney as a girl, or if Russia crushed her too tightly in its winters and melancholy. _Do birds sing there_ , she wonders.

“I don’t let you,” she argues. She’s closer than she’s been in months, and Eve’s eyes flutter at the expensive perfume Villanelle wears. “You’re just good at it,” she says emphatically. Eve shakes her head.

“You want to be caught, Villanelle,” Eve whispers. This moment is so delicate, so precious for the wrong reasons, that Eve can’t bring herself to raise her voice at all. “You want to be caught because it’s always me chasing you.”

“But you like chasing me.” Villanelle takes another step, then another. Their chests are nearly touching, and Eve wonders what circle of hell is reserved for her when she dies.

“Yes,” she agrees. “But I don’t like catching you.”

Her needle frowns and looks around the room, as if the answer to her question will jump out of the walls. “Why not?”

Eve looks at her. Looks at her honey blonde hair, at her cat-like eyes and her pretty mouth. She wasn’t lying in Villanelle’s apartment all those months ago. She really did think about her constantly.

“Finding you doesn’t mean we get to stay,” she began. “Not in my home, not in your apartment, not in this bedroom. We don’t get to stay.”

“We do,” Villanelle said, reaching for Eve’s waist. Eve put up no fight, falling into the embrace and not even hating that she enjoyed it. How strange, she muses, to find safety and joy in the arms of someone who kills. She doesn’t bother to think what it says about her. She’s been thinking too much since the beginning.

“We get to stay,” Villanelle says again.

Eve wraps her arms around a small waist, breathes in the expensive perfume on the long neck in front of her and looks to the open window. Waiting in a building on the other side of the courtyard below them is a team of MI-6 agents. Her instructions were simple: get the target by the window, move at least a foot away from her, wear something she doesn’t mind getting blood on. _It’s just a job, Eve. That really is all,_ Carolyn had said. Just a job.

So, Eve was always very good at finding things, lost things, things that didn’t want to be found. She had never been very good at letting those things go. She didn’t want to let Villanelle go either. She wanted to run out of that sleepy little village and run and run _and run_ until they were _safe_. She wanted to study Villanelle and kiss Villanelle and _just fucking be with Villanelle_.

 _But, really, it was just a job_ , her mind reminded. Her heart squirmed uncomfortably.

“Villanelle,” she whispered into pretty eyes. Just a job. _Just a job. Just a job!_

“Come stand by the window with me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I didn't update Focus yesterday, but have this instead. Chapter six is on its way, don't worry. 
> 
> This is my first fic for this pairing so tell me what you think! :)))


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